


Deryn's Fluffy Love Letter

by InfernalPume



Category: Leviathan - Scott Westerfeld
Genre: Anniversary, Characters Writing Fanfiction, F/M, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 00:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10292972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfernalPume/pseuds/InfernalPume
Summary: Prompt from "‘Would you kindly’ and a command and my muse has to obey." ask meme:"Would you kindly write some Dalek fluff?"





	

Deryn cursed as her eraser tore a hole in yet another piece of paper. Holding the tattered and abused letter up for inspection, Deryn grumbled about a waste of parchment and crumpled it up to join the others in the bin. Opening her desk drawer she pulled out another, and stared down at the blank page as if it had insulted her mother. 

There was no one here to blame except herself, really. 

Maybe Deryn could blame the society for giving her such piss poor wages, or perhaps the Dr. Barlow for sending her on a stupid mission that wouldn’t have her back in London until the end of August. Arguably, she could blame Alek himself, for not bothering to mention it was their barking anniversary _until she was walking out the door._

But mostly, it was her own fault. After all Deryn should have known as well as he did, should have already had something in mind. But even if she didnt Deryn would have a lot to time to think it over on the mission. She’d be in New York after all, that seemed like a decent place to think of what to get him. He’d insisted upon ‘nothing’ of course, but Deryn wouldnt stand for that blather. 

Or at least she didn’t in _theory,_  because now here she was on the flight back to London empty handed. Well, empty handed aside from a bin of crumpled up rubbish, anyway. 

It was the only thing she really _could_ do at this point. There were only a few more hours until arrival, and Alek would be sure to meet her at the station first thing like he always did. He’d definitely notice her slip off and try to get a gift then, and try to raise a fuss or something. So Deryn had to figure it out now, which meant making do with her sketchpad, a bit of charcoal, and her wits. 

Originally the plan had been to draw something. She could have done a portrait of Alek himself, but found it difficult to draw from memory and didn’t exactly have a picture for reference. The only models she did have at present were various bits of furniture on the civilian aircraft, and Deryn doubted a drawing of a chair would properly communicate her feelings about the occasion. 

That was when the idea of writing something had come about.  She knew a bit about poetry, having studied Robert Burns in school, and if that disaster of a man could make a career out of writing Deryn could certainly manage one poem. The short little stanzas hadn’t looked like much when she’d read them, but now as she tossed yet _another_ ruined bit of paper into the bin Deryn realized there might be a bit more to this whole business. 

Somehow it was even _worse_ then talking out loud, which Deryn found difficult on its own. Every time she wrote something down she’d picture Alek reading it and glancing up at her. Smirking, blushing, or worse, _frowning_ because her words were too sodding moony even for him.

A great battle was raging between her ears. Sweet lovesick lassie Deryn Sharp would think of something, and Midshipman Dylan Sharp, picture of manliness and nemesis to unsoldierly sentiments, would curse and tear the paper with his eraser. It was either too stiff or too soft, too vague or too shameful, and all the while Deryn could only think of the time she was rapidly running out of. 

Another crumpled piece of paper hit the bin. Deryn’s head slammed agains the desk with a _thud._

Why was this so barking _difficult?_  Deryn had fought in a revolution, helped orchestrate peace negotiations at the start of the year, and most impressive of all avoided giving Dr. Barlow a smack even when she was at her most bothersome. Surely after all that Deryn could manage a barking _love letter._

_“Attention passengers, this is your Captain speaking. We suspect we will be landing within the hour.”_

Deryn’s head shot up when she heard the voice over the Clanker speakerphones. Less then an hour? She thought she’d have until nightfall at least! Groaning Deryn pushed away from the desk to dig through the bin. Maybe she’d be able to piece together something decent out of the scraps she hadn’t erased. 

It took a lot not to grind her teeth as Deryn looked over her sugary words, but finally her pen slid across a fresh piece of paper with determination. It was vapid, uninspired, and _barking spiders_ was it trite, but at least it was done and Deryn had managed to pull something together last minute. As the landing equipment rolled up to the gondola and Deryn stepped down with the other passengers, she desperately fought for control of her features. 

There was no reason to be embarrassed! Alek was her… _thing_ that young people  have…and that wasnt anything to ashamed of! All she’d really done was written down her feelings, as stark and bare as she could manage. Everything she’d said in her letter was the truth, whether or not it was a piece of art didnt matter. Alek was mad for this sort of blather. He’d love it. 

With head held high Deryn walked through the station and right up to where he was standing by a cab. A smile spread across his daft handsome face, and if Deryn wasnt currently in trouser’s she’d snog the expression clean off him. But as it was she wasted no time in marching up to him and pushing the letter to his chest with a huff. 

“What?” 

Alek looked down at the paper and frowned, or at least Deryn assumed that was what he was doing because suddenly she found the cobblestones to be immensely interesting. Long moments passed, entirely too long for Deryn’s liking, before Alek spoke up again.

“Um…Deryn?” he asked, “What is this?”

“Exactly what it bloody says it is,” Deryn said, fighting to keep the stammer from her voice.

“Yes but um…” Alek looked to the paper again, “What…what _does_ it say _?_  I can’t…”

Deryn’s cheeks flushed as she snatched the paper away to study it. Unintelligible. It was _completely_ unintelligible. 

“Oh, sorry,” Deryn said, “Just some…er… _notes_ I took for Dr. Barlow.”

With that she crumpled it up and stuffed it in her pocket. 

“Nice to see you again!” She said, leaning forward to jostle his shoulder, “Missed you.”

Alek looked quizzically at her, a confused smile still on his face.

“And you as well,” he looked suspiciously to her pocket, “You wouldn’t be _fibbing,_  Mr. Sharp?”

Deryn swore and looked away, even as a smile poked through her resolve. “I ‘spose I am, but I can tell you later.”

“I’m sure you will,” Alek said with a smirk, then looked away as his own cheeks reddened, “I’ve…actually got something to show you at home.”

Deryn snorted at this. Barking  _traitor._

 

__


End file.
